


Learning More About The Doctor

by Random_Nexus



Series: Watson's Woes October Spooktacular Prompts 2019 [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Episode: The Abominable Bride, Gen, Ghouls, Mild Gore, October Spooktacular 2019, Prompt Fic, Supernatural Elements, Watson's Woes, ish, non-graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 19:03:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21343189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_Nexus/pseuds/Random_Nexus
Summary: Doctors Watson and Hooper learn something new about each other in unexpected circumstances.Written for:  The 2ndOctober SpooktacularPrompt — "Your second October Spooktacular prompt is: cadaver." —Watson's Woes Communityon Dreamwidth.
Relationships: None
Series: Watson's Woes October Spooktacular Prompts 2019 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1538617
Comments: 5
Kudos: 35





	Learning More About The Doctor

**Author's Note:**

> Here I am with another fic from the October Spooktacular prompts, one which I had most of the way done before Halloween, but I still had to edit and polish the previous one, as well as deal with RL — which is a needy biznatch, as we all know — and here we are about a month late. I really liked the idea for this, whether or not I executed it well is up to you, my dear readers, but I hated not to post it. So, hope some of you enjoy. BTW = This particular Dr. Hooper and Dr. Watson are based on the Beeblock episode “The Abominable Bride” in which Dr. Hooper was apparently a woman presenting as a man—seemingly fooling everyone except Watson, including Holmes.

It wasn’t the first time Watson had surprised Dr. Hooper bent over a cadaver in the morgue, although it was rare that the aloof doctor didn’t immediately cover his surprise with a curt greeting or borderline rude comment. Instead, this time, the doctor turned sharply with widened eyes and disheveled hair, with what looked like blood smeared upon his lips. (Even though Watson knew Hooper to be a female presenting herself as a male, in order to practice medicine in circumstances no woman would be allowed, it was easier over all to think of Dr. Hooper in male terms, the better to avoid accidentally giving away a truth that was not his own to reveal.)

“Watson?” Hooper hurriedly ran the back of his hand across his mouth, sounding completely thrown. “What the devil are you doing here? It’s after hours, you know.” Despite the reassertion of the familiar gruff tone in which Hooper addressed almost everyone, Watson barely heard the words. He was busy trying not to give in to an irrational urge to turn tail and run—of course it was irrational, because his eyes must be deceiving him in the poor lighting of the tomb like catacombs that housed the morgue. Dr. Hooper was always perfectly turned out in perfectly tailored suits under his lab coats, hair always properly trimmed, and moustache never crooked; Watson surely could not be seeing him with his hair nearly standing on end, let alone blood smeared on his mouth. On his _mouth_? And his hands were bloody, too—nearly to the wrist!

“What can you be doing, Hooper?” He finally demanded, never mind that his voice was a little uneven and his heart pounding so hard he thought it might be audible to Dr. Hooper, who was three or four yards away.

“An autopsy, of course,” snapped Dr. Hooper, turning away and striding quickly to the washbasin, all but tearing off his bloodied lab coat and chucking it forcefully into the nearest bin.

Confused and suspicious, Watson dared to come closer to the corpse as Hooper began washing with much more splashing than previous occasions when Watson had observed the process, Watson looked down into the wide-open body cavity. Much of his previous fear was displaced by curious fascination, and a sense of nagging familiarity as Watson noted the state of what lay within.

“I suppose this poor soul must have had his liver stolen after he was killed,” Watson said in a more casual tone, his heart rate having slowed with the return of the memory that had initially only teased the edges of his brain, now coming fully to him; something from his army days. He looked at Hooper after glancing around the platform upon which the body occupied. “Unless you’ve whisked it away already for some test or other?”

Turning slowly, eyes slightly narrowed and head tilted in an expression of suspicious confusion, Hooper distractedly dried his hands upon a towel. “What are you about, Watson?”

“Another serial killer, I presume? Someone who steals organs for some incomprehensible reason, perhaps? Will the Yard be engaging Holmes in this investigation?” It wasn’t the first time Watson had made use of an innocent expression, despite what Holmes might say about his ability to dissemble.

At his words, Hooper’s expression shifted to pure suspicion. “Since I know very well you are not nearly as stupid as some suppose, and certainly capable of seeing what lies right before your eyes, why are you toying with me?”

It was true, Watson had noted the missing organ, as well as what were very likely tooth marks at the edges of the large opening in the cadaver’s centre. What he had not noticed previously, which he felt could be forgiven, given the circumstances, was Hooper’s extremely pale skin and thinness; if not for the fact that he lived with a man given to both for perfectly natural reasons, he might have spotted it sooner. Considering Hooper worked in the morgue most of the time, probably rarely seeing daylight, it would not be unusual for him to be fair-skinned, nor would it be surprising that his dedication to his job might keep him from eating properly. However, there were other things, little tells, which Watson had not realized he’d noticed over time, but which now came to mind along with that memory from years ago.

“I knew a fellow in Afghanistan, an inspired field surgeon, who taught me a great deal about trauma surgery. He became something of a good friend to me in the midst of all that horror and chaos.” Watson could see the look of ‘why are you telling me this?’ come over Hooper’s face and held up a hand in a placating gesture. “Suffice to say I knew him well in the worst conditions possible, which is where one shows one’s true self most often. In the wee hours one night, after a terribly long run of hours caring for the wounded and dying, I couldn’t sleep and went to see if there was something I could do to be of use since I was awake. Finding only a couple of orderlies in the tent with the wounded, I did what little I could to help them and went in search of my friend.” Watson looked down at the body and then back up to Hooper, lowering his voice, just in case. “I found him… feeding… from the barrel into which the severed limbs were discarded after amputation. Normally, they would have been discreetly buried along with the dead that could not be sent home, but that had been scheduled for dawn this particular time.”

“What?” Murmured Hooper, eyes widening.

Nodding, Watson tucked his hands behind him, both gripping his walking stick, and turned to fully face Hooper instead of the corpse on the table. “Yes, you heard me correctly. I will admit, my reaction back then was far greater than just now—probably more what you might have been expecting—and it was all my friend could do to keep me from rousing the camp, let alone keep me from putting a bullet in him. In the end, after having been shown his unusual strength by his very subdual of me, and reminded of how long I had known him, as well as all that he had done to save the brave soldiers who had been in his care. Realizing the truth in what he said, I settled for an uneasy truce with him, wherein I would keep a close eye upon him to see if his promises could be trusted.”

“And?” Prompted Hooper, brows burrowed and tone implying an expectation of unhappy endings.

Unable to avoid a little sigh and shake of his head in regret, Watson answered quietly, “Oh, he proved true to his claims; harming no living being save to defend himself, but he died later that year, attempting to retrieve one of our wounded in the midst of a battle.” Watson caught Hooper’s gaze, holding it significantly as he concluded, “Shot right in the head.”

Hooper straightened, eyes widening. Watson had no doubt that he had been understood. After a moment or two, Hooper smoothed back his hair with a hand that trembled only very slightly, lifting his chin as he asked doubtfully, “So, shall we be entering a truce or…?” He let the question trail off, leaving it to Watson to fill in the blank.

With a tilt of his head, and a deliberately wry expression, Watson said calmly, “For now, yes.”

Despite an understandably displeased expression, Dr. Hooper asked a surprisingly tentative voice, “Are you going to tell Holmes?”

Shaking his head, Watson replied, “No, I shall simply consider it another of the things he has not deduced about you.” Almost turning to go again, Watson stopped himself to amend his words, “Unless he asks me directly, of course; I shan’t lie to him.”

At this, Hooper sighed and nodded.

Taking a couple of steps towards the door, Watson turned back one last time to add, “However, if I find any evidence that you have done any harm, Doctor, I will personally put a bullet between your undead eyes.”

Blinking a few times rapidly and ending with widened eyes, Hooper only nodded once more, expression solemn. Watson returned the nod, just as serious, and took his leave. Granted, Hooper may not have chosen to be a ghoul, but he could choose his actions now, despite his condition, and Watson would choose his own actions accordingly.


End file.
